Dark Obsessions Vol II

by Thompson, Claire

  “Eric, listen to me—” She tried to duck out from under his arm.

  He shifted to prevent her. “No, you listen to me.” A sudden, hot surge of power moved through his body like a bolt of lightning. What would it be like to dominate this woman? She was no stranger to BDSM. She would know what it meant to submit. She could dish it out, but could she take it? What would it be like to bring his dark fantasies to reality?

  “Here’s how it’s going to be. You’ll stay on at Chapman Media so I can keep my eye on you, and on the weekends, you’ll continue your porn biz. However, there’s going to be a change of venue. We’ll use that truck you have outside and move all this stuff of yours to my basement.”

  “To your basement? Are you kidding me—”

  Eric put his hand over Jessie’s mouth, excited by the panic flickering in her eyes. “Shut up. I’m talking. You’re listening. Got it?” He kept his hand clamped hard over her mouth and glared down at her until she finally nodded.

  Satisfied, Eric took his hand away. “As I was saying, I’ve got a basement—a rarity around here, but the place was built by an architect in the mid-fifties who was convinced we were going to be bombed at any moment by Soviet missiles. There’s a separate entrance through the garage. We’ll bring your, uh, clients in through that way. You’ll be safer, too, with me around.” He paused. “Where the hell do you pick those guys up, anyway?”

  Jessie shrugged, some of the fire returning to her eyes. “BDSM clubs, craigslist, the usual.” She sidestepped him and turned to face him, her hands on her hips. “Look, I’ve had to make it on my own since I was seventeen. I rely on nothing and no one and that’s how I like it. I know what I’m doing. I’ve never had a problem.”

  “Well, you have one now, babe, and you’re looking at him. This isn’t negotiable. I can call the police right now and file charges for illegal use of company assets. And I’m sure the cops would be very interested in your little side business, legal or not, not to mention what looked very much like a snuff video.”

  “That wasn’t—” she started to interject angrily, but Eric spoke over her.

  “Or else, from now on, we work together. We’ll keep this arrangement to ourselves. If either of the guys in the office get wind of anything, the deal’s off. I’ve got the outtake video of that poor bastard choking to death stored safely away, in case the police would like a look. And I have a pal in the IRS who owes me a couple of favors. If I ask him to, he won’t hesitate to open an audit on you. I’m taking a wild guess that you don’t report all, or even any, of the income you’re taking in on this little sleaze venture. Am I right?”

  From the expression on her face, Eric was pretty sure he’d nailed that one. “As of this moment, I own your ass. You’ll do exactly as I say, or pay the price. Understand, Princess Lola?”

  Jessie didn’t answer, at least not with words, though her eyes sparked with barely suppressed anger.

  “I asked you a question,” Eric said, his voice hard.

  When she still didn’t reply, he took his cell phone from his jeans. “Someone’s been using my warehouse unit illegally, and has stolen some very valuable equipment in the process. There’s also some suspicion of foul play. Guess I really have no choice but to call 9-1-1.” He touched the cell phone screen and pushed the nine on the keypad, then a one, angling the phone so she could see what he was doing. “I complete the call, and all kinds of hell is going to break loose. You ready for that?”

  “No!” Jessie shouted, suddenly lunging for the phone.

  Eric lifted it high out of her reach, grinning as she stumbled forward, swiping at the air.

  “Okay, okay,” she said in a tight, angry voice. “You win. I’ll do it.”

  ~*~

  “Get on your knees and show me your appreciation.” Jessie pointed to the ground.

  The sub boy dropped to the floor and began to lap at her shiny black shoes while she smacked his bare ass with a long-handled riding crop.

  This was her first time working in Eric’s basement setup and while she didn’t like the arrangements one bit, at least the space was a lot more luxurious than the concrete box she’d been shooting in. There was air conditioning so she wouldn’t have to sweat like a pig anymore during summer shoots. He had even let her set up the company’s recording equipment and lighting.

  Eric was staying out of the way so far, thank god, though when she’d arrived this morning for the shoot, he’d showed her his home monitoring system, which allowed him to watch any room in the house from his smart phone, including the garage and the basement. No doubt the bastard was spying on her now, his dick in his hand, the bastardo.

  She’d spent several sleepless nights trying to figure out how to get out from under Eric’s blackmailing thumb, but so far hadn’t come up with a plan that satisfied her. She couldn’t just walk away, not yet anyway, not until she had a little cash in the bank.

  She believed Eric’s threat of involving the IRS and then there was the issue of his highjacking all her gear. She’d spent years and a small fortune amassing her substantial collection of BDSM toys and equipment, and no way could she afford to just walk away from it. Until she could pull herself together enough financially to disappear, she’d have to cut Eric in and toe the line.

  Not surprisingly, she was having a hard time getting into the scene. Her eyes kept drifting toward the security camera set up high in a corner, its tiny red light blinking at her like some kind of evil eye. “I’ll be watching,” Eric had said with a shit-eating grin that made her want to smack him across the face. “I’d better get my money’s worth. Oh, and do us both a favor—no more breath play, got it?”

  She would have loved to string him up and tie the rope nice and tight. If only she could get him bound and naked in her dungeon—then she’d soon have him singing a different tune. As it was, she was at his mercy, at least for the time being. They’d struck a deal, or, more accurately, he’d stated his terms—a fifty-fifty split in the gross revenues from her site, with no end in sight.

  “You’ve been using my equipment and my space scot free for two years,” he had snarled when she protested that she had significant expenses. “You could have cost me my business, and might still if that guy decides to come out of the woodwork. Pay for your expenses out of what you owe me for that.”

  Cabrón.

  Along with making her work from his basement, he’d forced her to give him access to her merchant account. No way was she going to let him extort her forever. She’d pretend to go along for a while. She’d bide her time until she could get out without too much collateral damage.

  Houston was a big city—Texas even bigger. Hell, she could go anywhere in the world. Her site was gaining in popularity every month. She’d get away from Eric, lock him out of her site and her accounts, change her name and reinvent herself.

  Until she could figure a way out of this, it was more than strange to have to report for work at the ad agency, pretending to be Miss Bland-and-Innocent with Blake and Tony, while Eric stood by smirking.

  She looked down at Gerald, whose broad shoulders and back reminded her of Eric’s physique. Yes, it should be be Eric kneeling before her, naked and groveling as he kissed her feet.

  Jessie brought the crop down hard on Gerald’s ass, much harder than a moment before, drawing a gasp of real pain from the boy. She struck him again, putting her whole arm into it. Then she glared at the security camera. Take that, Chapman, you son of a bitch.

  ~*~

  Eric popped another can of beer as his laptop booted up. It had been a stroke of genius to make Jessie switch venues to his basement. Now she couldn’t disappear in the middle of the night with his expensive equipment, nor did he think she would just vanish, not when he had possession of the gear she used to make her videos. And it gave him the added control of watching her in action and making sure she stayed on schedule.

  Using the information he’d forced Jessie to provide, he logged into her merchant account. She had been avera
ging about $7,000 per month in gross income from her little venture, with some months going as high as $10,000.

  Let’s see…this month so far…he added the numbers in his head and then frowned. The daily take was down significantly in the week since he’d signed onto the venture. What the fuck? Maybe it was just a fluke—a temporary lull. It was the first week of the month, after all. Maybe folks were too busy paying their rents and mortgages to buy a porn membership. He’d give it another week before he leaped to any conclusions.

  Though Jessie had grudgingly agreed to Eric’s terms to keep him from blowing the whistle on her, she hadn’t done much to disguise how pissed off she was. He had a feeling she wasn’t going to just roll over and accept the situation without a fight. She reminded him of a caged tiger, flicking her tail at him, ready to bite his head off the second she got the chance.

  Eric clicked on Jessie’s website from his favorites toolbar and watched her home page load on the screen. There it was—this week’s new video. He’d spied on her while she was filming, and he had to admit she was seriously hot in action, doing things he’d only fantasized about doing himself.

  For the shoot she wore a black leather corset, the stays drawn tight, cinching in her long, slender waist and forcing her breasts together to create some seriously hot cleavage. Her hips flared nicely and that ass was just made for spanking.

  He would love to smack the sass right out of the little bitch. He’d start with his hand, savoring the feel of her skin heating as it reddened, the flesh jiggling with each hard smack. He’d spank her until she cried. Then he’d fuck her, forcing her up on her hands and knees so he could enter her doggie style. He’d slam into her cunt, using her hips to pull her hard onto his shaft.

  As he watched Jessie whipping that poor loser in the video, the image shifted in his mind. He became the one with the whip, and Jessie was the one on the floor, naked and sweating, thanking her Master for giving her what she deserved. Man, wouldn’t that be sweet?

  The idea of overpowering and controlling a strong, fiery woman had always appealed to Eric. It was one reason he’d never been interested in Jessie before. He had fallen for her front, the manipulative little cunt. Now that he knew what she really was, he wanted her. He wanted a woman who struggled and fought—a hellcat he could subdue by force.

  When the guy on the screen started jerking off, Eric closed out of the site, wrinkling his nose with distaste. The creep better not have gotten any of his spunk on the basement carpet.

  Still aroused from thoughts of Jessie as his slave girl, Eric clicked his personal favorite, a BDSM site called S&M Trainers. Two men, who called themselves Maestro and Sir Stephen, took normal, sedate secretary types, much like the persona Jessie projected at the office, and turned them into submissive, sex-crazed sluts who would endure ever-increasing levels of pain and humiliation to get the orgasms they became conditioned to crave.

  Eric was pleased to see there was an update on slave Julia, a delicious petite redhead. The video opened with Julia, naked and on her knees on the concrete floor in what looked like a basement, with a bucket beside her and a large sponge in her hand. Her face was smudged with dirt and her long hair was tousled and tangled, the ends brushing the floor as she leaned over to scrub.

  The camera moved in for a close-up of her shaven cunt peeking between her legs from behind. Eric reached for his fly and opened his jeans. She had a great ass, this girl. He pulled his underwear down enough to grab his cock, which hardened as he stroked it, his eyes glued to the screen.

  A black combat boot appeared in the shot. It settled on Julia’s back, pushing her flat to the concrete. “I thought I told you to clean this floor, slave.” Maestro, a thirty-something guy who always wore army fatigues, was revealed standing beside the girl as the camera pulled back.

  “I’m doing my best, Sir,” she wailed, as Sir Stephen came into view, a long whip in his hand.

  “Your best isn’t good enough. You need to be punished,” Sir Stephen said, glaring down at the girl.

  “This slave is filthy,” Maestro interjected. “Let’s clean her up.”

  The two men hauled Julia to her feet and dragged her toward the wall. While she struggled, they forcibly bound her by the wrists and ankles to metal cuffs that had been installed for the purpose. Her arms were extended to either side, her legs spread wide. While Maestro stood beside her, roughly fondling her spread cunt, Sir Stephen moved out of camera range and then returned with clover clamps and lead fishing weights.

  He pulled at her nipples until they were taut, drawing a cry of pain from the girl as the tips were caught in the clamps’ viselike grip. One by one, he attached teardrop lead weights to the chain dangling between her breasts, wresting sexy moans from the girl.

  The camera panned back to show Maestro, who was pulling a large coiled hose from its hook on the side wall. Moving toward the girl, he aimed the nozzle at her and pulled the trigger. She squealed as a powerful stream of water hit her directly on her spread cunt.

  Eric stroked his cock faster, feeling the telltale tightening in his balls that signaled he was about to come. Closing his eyes, he saw Jessie chained to the wall, writhing and moaning as he brought her to a forced orgasm, her nipples clamped, the chain swaying between them.

  Eric’s cock began to spurt, his dark fantasy fueling his orgasm as much, if not more than the chained, dripping girl being tormented on the screen.

  When he’d finished, he leaned back in his chair, staring vacantly for a while as impossible, dark ideas slithered like serpents through his brain. He could keep the basement locked. The room was soundproofed, and he lived alone. Who would ever know? Imagine having his own personal fuck toy. He could take her out and use her whenever he wanted, and then stick her back into her cage, just like in his favorite fantasy. As far as he knew, Jessie had no family to speak of—no one to miss her. She would just become another statistic, another girl who disappeared without a trace…

  He pulled himself out of his crazy musings with a shake of his head and reached for his beer.

  “Get real, Chapman,” he said aloud.

  But the fantasy lingered, whispering in his brain like a devil on his shoulder.

  Chapter 3

  Another week passed. It was nine o’clock on a muggy Saturday night when Jessie finally wrapped up the shoot. Eric had been observing, off and on, but he didn’t really get off on watching a sub boy being put through his paces. Now, if it had been a female down there tied up and whipped, that he would have enjoyed, without question. A little girl-on-girl action would have been hot, too, especially when it was taking place right in his basement. Maybe he’d suggest it to Jessie, maybe even round up a few candidates for her.

  It had been bizarre in the extreme, having her in the office playing the part of the good little employee, when they both knew what she would be doing that weekend in his basement. He wasn’t sure how long either of them could sustain the charade, or if it was even smart to keep her on at the firm.

  Maybe he would make her focus exclusively on the website, now that he had control of the situation. It was such a perfect setup down there—why not make the most of it? Though he continued to tell himself it was just a fantasy, he couldn’t stop thinking about punishing her good and proper. She had asked for it, after all. The girl definitely needed to be taught a lesson.

  When he heard the whir of garage door, he knew Jessie’s disgusting boy toy had made his exit at last. He grabbed his cell, calling up a view of the basement on the security app.

  Jessie, still in her slut outfit, was putting equipment away. Hopefully the shoot had been a good one, because sales had continued to dip. New memberships spiked on weekends, so maybe there’d been an uptick since he last checked.

  Opening his laptop, he went to her account to check the new memberships.

  “Fuck,” he swore softly. “Where are the numbers she had before I came onboard?”

  Then it hit him.

  The little bitch was cheating him.r />
  But how? He had access to all the numbers.

  Or did he?

  Using a different credit card, he purchased a membership from her site using a hotmail email address he hardly ever accessed. He got a confirmation receipt, waited a few minutes and then reopened her processing account.

  There was no indication of his sale there.

  The cunt.

  As he thought about it, he understood how she must have done it. She had probably opened a second, secret bank account and set up another merchant account. She was siphoning off the profits so he’d think her business was losing money.

  “Goddamn her,” he breathed, letting the anger that pumped through his veins like liquid heat buoy him from his chair. After all the damage she’d already caused, the bitch had the nerve to hold back on him. She hadn’t even been subtle about it. What kind of an asshole did she take him for?

  “You’ve gone one step too far, Princess Lola,” he growled under his breath.

  He headed toward the basement door, knowing even as he thundered down the stairs that the ideas whirling through his fevered brain had no place in a civilized world.

  Tough shit. She was begging for it.

  As he came into the basement, Jessie was at the far end of the room, her back to him. Moving quickly, he crossed the room in several strides and grabbed her shoulder, jerking her around to face him.

  She screamed and raised her arm, reflexively striking at him with the single tail whip she held in her hand. A line of red hot pain seared down the side of his neck. Eric grabbed Jessie’s wrist, squeezing hard until she dropped the whip.

  “You cunt!” he roared, reaching to touch the rising welt on the side of his neck with his other hand.

  Jessie wrenched herself away from his grasp. “Let go of me,” she cried. “It’s your own fucking fault. You scared me half to death!”

  He reached for her again, rage and pain dictating his moves. She struggled against him. “You’ve been ripping me off, cunt. I know what you’re doing with the accounts,” Eric grunted as he pushed her toward the wall.